


I don't have a choice (I'd still choose you)

by farfarawaygirl



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: F/M, Friends to more, Get Married, Slow Burn, not au but headed that way, this is very much not cannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:09:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27532786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfarawaygirl/pseuds/farfarawaygirl
Summary: “Is this weird?” Sylvie asks from her perch in the counter. She’s shucking peas for a pasta Matt makes that literally is so good it should be illegal. Honestly, she asks him to make it all the time.He absently replies, “is what weird?”Matt’s not really paying attention to her, because he’s browning the butter for his sauce. This is a kitchen trick that Sylvie was unaware of, but has grown to appreciate. Browned butter is delicious.“The invite. The address. The names.” She motions her hand in front of her, indicating the two of them.“Why would it be be weird?”“Because,” she sputters, “they just, like, assumed we were going together.”Matt quirks a brow and turns back to his stove.“We are going together.”“Obviously! But, what if I wanted to bring Gallo?”“You want to bring Gallo?” Matt’s is amused, and a little skeptic.“No.” Sylvie sniffs. “I just don’t like that they forcing us to hang out.”
Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 41
Kudos: 184





	I don't have a choice (I'd still choose you)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I wrote this in like Feb.  
> This is a could have been fic, I think.  
> This is what might have happened in a world without Covid, and with Julie dying like that.  
> The rest should just explain itself?

It’s happens a few time’s before either of them really realize what exactly is happening. Apparently, people are just assuming they are a couple. Which is not an issue. They’re not a couple. They are friends, good friends. And it is most definitely not an issue. 

Except, that it keeps on happening. 

And now they’re invited to a wedding, kind of as a couple? 

This wasn’t an issue when they were seated beside each other at work events, or how they always seemed to be the awkward 3rd and 4th wheels that just gravitated together. Honestly, his best friend is dating one of hers, so it makes sense that they do things together. 

Also, they are friends! This is normal. This is fine. 

But, like, Josh and Rita sent the invitation to Matt’s house, addressed the the two of the. 

“Is this weird?” Sylvie asks from her perch in the counter. She’s shucking peas for a pasta Matt makes that literally is so good it should be illegal. Honestly, she asks him to make it all the time. 

He absently replies, “is what weird?”

Matt’s not really paying attention to her, because he’s browning the butter for his sauce. This is a kitchen trick that Sylvie was unaware of, but has grown to appreciate. Browned butter is delicious. 

“The invite. The address. The names.” She motions her hand in front of her, indicating the two of them. 

“Why would it be be weird?”

“Because,” she sputters, “they just, like, assumed we were going together.”

Matt quirks a brow and turns back to his stove. 

“We are going together.”

“Obviously! But, what if I wanted to bring Gallo?”

“You want to bring Gallo?” Matt’s is amused, and a little skeptic. 

“No.” Sylvie sniffs. “I just don’t like that they forcing us to hang out.”

“Forcing?” 

“You know what I mean!”

Matt ignores her, just carries on cooking. Sylvie watches as he adds cream, and peas to the browned butter. He’s strained the noodles, and prepared the serving dish. She knows to start on the lemon, making symmetrical wedges while he grates Parmesan. 

“Where are Severide and Kidd?” Matt asks, reaching around her to get a pot holder. 

Sylvie checks her phone, “they’re just pulled up.”

Seconds later the lock turns and the noise level increase as Stella and Kelly come in. They’ve got a bottle of wine, and a case of beer, and Sylvie feels that familiar pang of longing as they just continue their conversation around her and Matt. She misses that part of being in a relationship. The steadiness. 

Someone to call home. 

Matt shoos her out of kitchen, and she falls heavily in one of the kitchen chairs, drawing her knees up. It is never a chore to watch Matt do anything. He is one of those rare competent and compassionate people. And objectively, kind of handsome. Which, when he’s pulling people out of burning buildings doesn’t come into play much, but when he’s plating his creamy pasta dish does. 

“Lemons!” He instructs and Sylvie plays her part, dousing the food with the acidic juice. Matt steps beside her, and pulls her in by her shoulders. “Stop thinking so hard.”

Matt watches her all through dinner, as Sylvie is clearly thinking of something else. She raves about his food, teases Stella, eggs on Severide and all the while she has this look on her face. He hates that look. After dinner Stella and Kelly clear the table and start on the dishes, Matt and Sylvie watch them. 

Last February Matt announced he was buying a house, in May Stella moved in with Severide while Matt moves out. In June Cruz married, and Sylvie moved temporarily into the renovated studio above Matt’s workshop. It’s closing in on September now, and she’s still there. But she is also mostly, just, in his house. 

Sylvie helped him pick out the fixer upper, an older brownstone with a garage out back. The studio apartment she moved into was the first project Matt tackles. He let her pick the paint, and the tile, the flooring and the cabinetry. And now she’s done the same for the house, guiding him towards bright, cleaner lines than he might just pick on his own. Matt likes it. 

She insisted he paint the kitchen a robin eggs blue. He thinks of her every time he cooks, or does dishes, or makes coffee. She has helped, learned to sand and tape. Watched YouTube videos on how to get things a certain way. 

“What’s for dessert?” Stella ask, she is putting on the kettle for Sylvie’s tea, and Severide has moved back to the table. When Sylvie doesn’t reply he nudged her with his foot. 

“Dessert?” Sylvie is flustered, standing up, “I made a coffee cake. It’s at my place. I’ll be right back.”

As soon as the door falls shut behind her, Stella is on Matt.

“What happened? She’s been out of it all night.”

Matt is kind of at a loss. 

“Something about Josh and Rita’s wedding.”

Severide and Stella share a look. 

“So, she knows about Gabby coming.”

“What?” Matt is genuinely befuddled. “We definitely didn’t know that.”

Stella grimaces, “she sent me a message on instagram, I thought she might have message Sylvie too.”

“No, it because they sent us a joint invitation.”

“Because you live together.” Deadpan’s Severide. 

“I live in the studio!” Sylvie is back in the kitchen, blueberry lemon coffee cake in hand, and disgruntled look on her face. 

“Same address.”

Sylvie places the cake down, and moves to grab plates and forks. Matt sets about making her a mug of the peppermint tea she’s obsessed with, and they move around the kitchen together, at ease with one an other. 

“Did you know Gabby was coming to Josh and Rita’s wedding?”

The widening of Sylvie’s eyes let’s Stella know the answer to her question. 

“No,” she shakes her head, evenly cutting the cake and serving pieces, “but I knew Peter Mills was coming.”

“Mills is coming?” Kelly sits up, pulls his cake towards him, grinning at the group. “I can’t believe Mills is coming.”

They eat their cake, and talk more about the wedding, a little more about Mills and then the night is winding down a little. The street lamps switch on, and cast an orange glow from the living room. While the company is still good, the feeling of unsettledness from earlier in the night is gone. 

When Matt turns around from waving good night to Stella and Kelly, it’s to an empty kitchen, and the sound of Sylvie’s steps going up the stairs to the studio. He pauses for a moment, listening for both the sound of Kelly pulling off from the curb, and the close of Sylvie’s door. 

———

Sylvie can’t really sleep after that, she feels wrung out and tired, unsettled in her own skin. After she cleans the bathroom, bakes a tray of chocolate chip cookies and does a yoga video, she admits defeat and decides to go for run. After searching for her shoes for three minutes she realizes she left them in the house, slipping on her trusty Birkenstocks Sylvie heads down her steps, skipping the third one because it always squeaks, and uses her key to enter the kitchen. She loves this house. Its is the house she would want, lots of character, and lots of room for family. 

When Matt was house shopping, he did it on his own for the first two weeks, and then he came to her hat in hand and asked for her help. Sylvie sprung into action. She made lists, she looked at maps, she considered school zones, work commutes, distance from downtown, and room to grow. The house that Matt bought was the third place they looked at together, and honestly, even though it was out of her price range, Sylvie had seriously considered asking her parents for loan for a downpayment until she saw’s Matt face. He loved it too. Elation replaced disappointment. Sylvie had found Matt his house. 

The house itself was equal distance between Herrmann’s house and Boden’s. Easy commute to work. Nice schools. Shopping was close by, easy train access, and safe. It was an old brownstone, three stories, with alley access, a large garage that Matt converted into a shop out back, and of course the studio apartment above it where Sylvie lived. Matt got it for a steal because it was a bit of a fixer upper. Easy for him, but still a lot of elbow grease. He’d done the studio first, asking for input every step of the way. Matt had even picked the particular bath she had fallen in love with in Restoration Hardware. 

Original hardwood floors lead from the kitchen to the hallway and open plan front room. Sylvie crept past the stairs and found her shoes at the front door. Matt had lined them up with his, looking at the neat precise line of their intermixed shoes sent a funny feeling of loneliness into her chest. It wasn’t just her runners, but a pair of her heels, cloth sandals and her silvery grey flats were lined up with his work boots, runners, flip flops and a shiny but underused dress shoes. Looking up Sylvie saw that the hooks over the shoes held as many of her things as his. Jackets, scarves and a cloth tote bag. She reached out and ran her hand down his zip up hoodie.

“Where are you going?” Matt’s amused voice filtered down the stairs. 

Sylvie startled, accidentally hitting the light switch with her elbow and flooding the front hall with light. When she looks up at him, squinting in the harsh light, Sylvie notes with surprise that he is in his running gear as well. 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Casey makes his way down the stairs, socks soft on the hardwood, and stops arms crossed on the last step. Their usual height difference is exaggerated, and Sylvie is reminded of how she always feel safe with Casey. 

“Race you to the diner?”

For a moment they just share the space, looking at each other, enjoying the way they are. Then Matt replies. 

“You’re on. Coffee and donuts on the winner?”

In reply Sylvie grabs her runners, and shoves her feet in them, hopping one footed as she moves towards the door. Behind her Casey struggles to grab his own shoes, she hears his curse of frustration as secures her last lace, and she is out the door. 

It is the edge of dawn, light beginning to spill over the house on the streets the move down. There is the slightest chill in the air, it’s still summer, but you can feel the coolness from the lake. Sylvie sets the pace, slowly warming up, and the building her strides, pushing herself to keep going, she know the route. They’ve done this race before. When she stops to crossed the main road at Hudson, Casey joins her at the light, they’re both breathing a little heavy, but jogging in spot to keep their heart rate up. 

“You okay?” Matt asks, his hand sliding up her neck to touch her hair. 

“I’m okay, Matt.” She is. 

Really. She’s just trying to not jump his bones at any given moment. And his ex-wife, her former best friend is coming to town and will be at the same wedding as them. What’s to worry about?

The light changes, and she takes off, catching him off guard. She makes it to the diner moments before him, resting against the door frame and smiling up at him, when he slides in beside her. They’re both a bit sweaty, but not too much for donuts and coffee. Casey pays, ordering their usual, two black coffees and two lemon blueberry donuts. They get them to go, and partake in them as they make their way back home. Chicago never really sleeps, but she does slow down. They get to see her start to wake up as they walk the familiar route back home. Delivery trucks on the road, taxi’s starting to move down the avenue. 

It’s their day off, shift does’t start again until tomorrow morning, which means they can sleep, and work a little in the afternoon. Sylvie knows Casey has a job he’s doing. 

“Do you need help with taping at the Henderson house?” She asks mid chew, smiling at the face he pulls at her. 

“Yeah,” Casey squints up at the sky, which is finally turning palest blue, “I could use you. If you can be up for noon?”

Sylvie nods, dusts her hands off, takes Casey empty paper cup and jogs around the side of the house. 

“See you then!”

Her key sticks for half a second, and then the door opens, she’s home. This apartment is her favourite. When she moved in it had been ‘temporary’, but she can’t really see herself wanting to leave. It’s large, bright and made for her. Casey used large slabs of restored hardwood for the floors, white subway tiles in the kitchen and heated cement floors in the bathroom. He let her chose the large widows, and grey green cabinets in the kitchen. After she left the apartment she shared with Cruz, Sylvie had revealed in being alone. Not having to share space. 

She was never lonely. Most nights her and Matt cooked and ate together. She didn’t own a t.v., so when she wanted to watch she used one of the two in Matt’s house. When she stood in her bathroom she could tell if his bedroom light was on through the frosted glass. They rode to work together. She worked for him occasionally, and they were tied up in the house Reno. 

But that morning, as Sylvie toes off her runners, she feels a tiny moment of panic. She knows this holding pattern can’t last. She knows she loves Matt. 

——————

Matt and Sylvie get more work done than he anticipated, and faster too, so when they leave the Henderson’s he asks her if she want to hit up their favourite home renovation store. They are trying to decide on flooring for the main floor bathroom. Sylvie agrees, telling him they can stop by their local deli to grab dinner on the way home. 

Casey is constantly surprised at how well living, working, and renovating with Sylvie has gone. 

She understands his shorthand, and has a way of reframing things that make him feel understood. He values her immensely. 

Once they finish the main floor bathroom the entire main floor will be renovated. The kitchen was first, followed by the dining room, living room, an at home office, and now the bathroom. There is still more to do, the whole top level is unfinished, and he has a pair of U of C grad students living in the basement suite. 

Sylvie places an order at the deli while they drive, they have about half an hour to waste in the hard ware store. It’s owned by an old greek man, who just adores Sylvie. When they enter, he blows her a kiss, mid customer, and keeps on ringing up the guy with a drill bit up. Casey and Brett head right to the flooring. Elias the owner, has a whole aisle dedicated to case lots he buys. Its odds and end. Enough for one room, and Sylvie has been begging Matt to wait for a good lot. 

Matt flipping through floor boards when he hears someone talking to Sylvie. He looks up to see her explaining something to a young woman, who is holding a paint brush and nodding along. Sylvie leads her over to the next aisle and Matt hears the encouraging tone of Sylvie’s voice. When she comes back into view he takes a moment to just smile at her. 

Her blonde hair in under a ball cap, one of his actually, poking out back in a little bun, she’s in one of his CFD hoodies, a pair of ripped jeans, some second hand steel toed boots and she is covered in drywall dust. She smiles backs, coming up beside him she bumps him with her hip. 

“You’re the greatest.”

In reply, she shakes her head and asks if there is any good flooring today. 

“No,” Casey slings an arm around her shoulders, leads her past a waving Elias and out of the shop. “Let’s get dinner and go home.”

They eat dinner sprawled on his couch, with a game on behind them, but they mostly just talk. After she had finished her food, Sylvie curls down on the couch, puts her head in his lap and keeps asking about what his plans for the upstairs rooms are. Matt tells her, fingers playing in her hair, and watches her slowly fall asleep. 

She is his favourite person in the world. 

He watches her sleep for quite a while. The game is long over, and he’s turned off the tv, the room goes darker, but he keeps still. Plays with her hair until he too starts to fall asleep. 

When Sylvie comes to mostly aware of the warmth and weight across her ribs. It’s Matt’s arm, his right one is over her ribs, the left is bent around and pillowing her head. She’s comfy, but knows if he stays like that, sitting on his couch, his neck will bug him tomorrow. Sylvie wiggles upwards, in his sleep Matt looks impossibly young. When she standing in front of him, she leans down and cups his cheek. 

“Matt?”

He mumbles. 

“Come on Matt, we need to get to bed.”

He blinks blearily at her. Sylvie grins. 

She grabs his hands and pulls, he comes willingly enough. When they both upright, he surprises her by wrapping his arms around her, pulling her in. 

“Sylvie.” His voice is soft. “I want to take you on a date.”

The air leaves Sylvie’s lungs, and Matt pulls back to look at her. Her blue eyes have doubled in size, but she still has her arms wrapped around him, so he doesn’t lose courage. 

“I’ve wanted to for a while.”

Her smile is growing, and she swaying a little in his arms. Instead of saying any words she presses up on her toes and kisses him. He chases her when she pulls back, meeting her lips again. It’s silly, and sweet, and lovely. They spend a solid ten minutes making out in the living room, Matt’s hands sliding up her spine, Sylvie’s lost in his hair. 

“What made you ask now?” Sylvie brushes her nose against his, slides her lips over and kisses his jaw. 

“I was just watching you sleep, and I knew. I want to be the only one that gets to watch you sleep.”

Sylvie pulls him closer. 

“I was looking at you, and it was clear to me that you are my favourite person.”

In reply Sylvie kisses his lips again, and Matt feels her hand grip his hips. 

“You are my favourite person, too!”

Matt’s heart explodes. No one has ever said that to him before. No one has ever made him feel like this before, hot and bothered one minute and safe and secure the next. He wants to lay her down in the sofa and really kiss her, but he knows they need sleep, they’re on shift tomorrow. Groaning as he pulls back, Sylvie plays dirty, by reaching a hand up to massage the back of his neck. 

“We need to go to bed.”

“Ok.” Sylvie parrots, but instead she pushes back in, kissing his neck. Matt stumbles them both over to the door jam, and presses Sylvie against it while he returns the favour. 

“Seriously, Sylvie. We need to shower and sleep.”

Her lips are a little swollen, there is a little beard burn on her chin, Matt is intensely proud of the way she is looking up at him. 

“So have your shower and come to my bed.”

There is something vulnerable in her eyes as she looks up him, soft and uncertain. 

Matt presses their foreheads together and nods. Sylvie ducks out of his arms, calling at him to hurry as she exits the back door and heads to her studio. Matt stands dumbfounded in the doorway for a moment, before he heads upstairs to his room. From his bedroom window he can see the light on through her frosted bathroom window. Matt strips off his work clothes, tosses them in the hamper and brushes his teeth while the water warms up. 

He’s quick, washes his hair, uses the body wash Sylvie bought him. Dresses in boxer shorts and a shirt and heads down to her place. She’s still in the bathroom when he gets there, he can hear the faint sounds of her singing. So Matt lies down on the bed, on top of the covers. 

The bed dips a little when she joins him, Sylvie is throwing a knee over him, one hand on either side of his shoulders. Matt reaches for her, eyes still closed. She’s warm, and her pyjamas are soft and thin under his fingers. Sylvie wiggles a little, and Matt opens his eyes, she’s real. She is there. He grabs her and flips them, shielding her from the full weight of his body, kissing her slowly and like it is his job. 

Sylvie sighs, pulls him more on top of her, and kisses him back. 

“Seriously,” Matt interrupts, pulling back. “We need to sleep.”

Sylvie agreed, and they separate and settle under the covers, inches apart and then, Sylvie turns over, tucks her face into his neck, places an arm across his chest. 

“Goodnight Matt.”

“Night, Sylvie.”

She snuggles in deeper. 

“Sylvie?”

Her bummed response reverberates through his chest. 

“You are the one I want. Just you.”

———— 

Matt is sitting in his regular morning briefing with Boden, Hermann and Severide. This is the normal routine for the commanding officers at 51, its coffee and reports; it is routine. Except Matt has twice had to ask Boden to repeat himself because his mind keeps wandering. The second time he sees the look Herrmann and Severide share, feels colour rise in his neck. 

Boden squints a little at him, but carries on. 

Casey tries to focus. Thinks of the team he is responsible to answer to. But then thoughts of Sylvie keep popping up. 

Her hair. 

The way she hums while she cooks. 

How in June, when Annabelle Herrmann broke her arm at a CFD lake day, it was Sylvie who calmed her down, applied the splint. Sylvie calmed down Herrmann and Cindy too. She rode in the ambulance with Annabelle. Casey had picked her up after, she had been barefoot in her jean shorts and bikini top, and he bought her ice cream as reward. 

Even how she writes, the tight spiral of her letters. 

“Casey!”

Boden’s voice is concerned when he calls Casey back to attention, and Matt sheepishly clears his throat. 

“Sorry. I was lost my train of thought.”

Herrmann shorts. 

“That’s enough for today. Let’s get out there and get the floor clean.”

They break up, Severide pushes against his side as they exit the Chief’s office. 

“Seriously? Casey, where were you?”

“I finally did something about it last night.”

Severide raises his brows. He’s been the one person that Casey has voiced any of this too. His feelings for Brett. 

“And?”

“And, we are on the same page.” 

“Casey, that is great.”

Severide pounds his shoulder a beat, but Matt cuts him off before it turns into something more. 

“We’re keeping it between us for the moment.”

And that was the plan, they had settled on it that morning, wrapped up in each other under Sylvie’s blue duvet. It’s fragile, not them, but the newness of them. This new way of being with each other. Matt’s mostly afraid of someone making her feel like he’s settling for her. 

Which he is not. He’s punching above his weight class with her. Sylvie Brett is so far out of his league it is not even funny. 

“You’re doing it again,” Severide laughs, walking backwards away from Matt. 

“I’m just...”, here Matt paused, “I’m happy.”

“That’s a good thing Casey.”

Matt’s nodding at him, when they round the corner and walk into Kidd and Brett. 

Kidd pushes Severide away from herself, and they banter as they head down the hall towards the kitchen. 

Sylvie ducks her head, blushing under the glare of the hallway lights. She tucks her hair behind her ear and Matt is gone. He’s done. 

He doesn’t have words. 

Matt is head over boot heels for the woman standing in front of him. 

“Casey.”

She says his name soft and low, not unlike how she said it this morning when he woke her up by kissing his neck. He hopes she never stops saying it like that. Matt’s feeling a little bold, so he grabs her wrist and pulls her down the hall, out the doors to the floor and into the turn out room. 

Her arms are around his neck even as she asks him what he is doing. Casey doesn’t reply, just presses her into the door, bends a little at knee, and moulds into her. Sylvie’s face is pressed into his neck, and he can feel her smile as she kisses him. She makes a squeaking noise when his hand brushes across her ribs, on the left side where he knows she’s a little ticklish. 

From outside the room they hear voices, Cruz and Tony as they carry something over to the squad. 

“I don’t know, Gabby’s coming back for that wedding. She sent me an email, saying she was sorry she missed mine and wanted to know if me and Chloe would want to get dinner with her. She practically asked me to invite Casey.”

Sylvie freezes in his arms. 

“Some people don’t ever really get divorced, even when they get divorced.” Tony is non comital, not really paying attention. 

Casey listens to their footsteps grow fainter, his arms still wrapped around Sylvie. Her hands, which has been playing with the untucked hem of his shirt, have stilled, and kind of float at their sides. Sighing Matt leans back, steps away and flicks on the light. 

Blinking in the sudden burst of light, Brett peers up at him, her hair is slightly disheveled, her lips darker pink thank normal. She pulls them together, pushing them out with a sigh. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Sylvie hums, her hand reflexively going to her watch band and twisting it. He knows that move. She is nervous. 

“We are divorced.” Matt insists. 

“I know.” Sylvie looks down and away, clears her throat. She steps back into his space, and the wildly erratic beating of his heart lessens. She straightens the white collar of his shirt. Matt puts his hands on her hips, rests his forehead on the top of hers. 

“You’re the one I want.”

Sylvie blinks. 

He’s know her for years and years. Matt has know Sylvie as a coworker, a friend of a friend, a girlfriends roommate, a leader, his wife’s brother girlfriend, and lately as his best friend. Ever since Gabby left she’s been the person he’s turned to. Sylvie has been his person. And he knows he’s been hers. 

They’re standing there, trying to come up with words, but they can’t. 

The bells go off and they pull apart, she is at the door, hand on handle when she turns back around, kisses him quick and soft. The kind of kiss that means you will get to do this a million more times. And then she’s gone. 

———-

Casey’s leaning on his truck, hat pulled low over his eyes when she exits the firehouse. It’s later than she normally leaves, but she got stuck on a call last minute, and really needed to shower off the grime. She had texted Casey that she Uber home, or walk, it’s not that far as she needs to clear her head. But he’s there. 

Fighting a smile she walks right past him, pops open the passenger door and climbs in. 

He takes her lead and gets inside, silent, but companionable. After he starts the car, he reaches over and pulls her over the middle seat by her thigh, Sylvie doesn’t resist. He hand stays in the soft, white inner part of her knee as he drives home. 

“Hungry?” He asks as he parks, and Sylvie gives a non comital shrug, tucks her chin onto his shoulder and wraps her arms around his bicep. 

“You have work today?” She rubs her nose on his shoulder. 

“Tomorrow.”

Matt leans back against the head rest, closes his eyes. 

“Then I saw we skip breakfast, and go do other things in my room.”

“Listen, Sylvie.” Matt clears his throat and turns half ways in his seat, holding her eyes. “About before.”

“Matt,” she interrupts, looking down, “if you tell me you want to be with me, I believe you. I will believe you until you say otherwise.”

When she looks back up, her blue eye are unbelievably vulnerable. Matt reads in them the hurt that others have left there. The ways they’ve changed her. All that and she still takes his word, because it’s his. 

He grinning, and she blushing and Matt’s heart is pounding out of his chest. Sylvie can feel it, counts the beats, commits then to memory. Softly, like Matt is afraid he will hurt he cups her face, kisses one eyelid then the next, her cheek, her chin, the corner of her mouth. 

“You said we could go do other stuff in your room?”

Sylvie laughs, tilts her head back and lets the sound fill the truck, but Matt’s lips find her neck and she looses the ability to breath, let alone laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> what do you think?


End file.
